


The hummingbird and the Ghost

by 111Nixxoxo111



Category: The Folk of the Air - Holly Black, The cruel prince holly
Genre: Book 1: The Cruel Prince, Book 3: The Queen of Nothing, F/M, Post-Book 3: The Queen of Nothing, Spoilers for Book 2: The Wicked King, Spoilers for Book 3: The Queen of Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:01:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26636272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/111Nixxoxo111/pseuds/111Nixxoxo111
Summary: Taryn and Ghost, How their story might have began and how an unlikely friendship/possible romance might have bloomed during the missing time.(I'm not sure where l'm going with this yet, but l feel like l should put a warning since there will be moments of Locke abusing his power and ability to control both the Ghost and Taryn.)
Relationships: Taryn Duarte/The Ghost
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

Locke’s estate was as ever a spectacle of grandiosity and revelry. 

Whether it was simply magic or the touch of the hummingbird that seem to flutter about the estate, like it was on crack. It always seemed like the forest and garden’s of the estate shimmered a little brighter when it had guests. 

The array of flower and plants, that always greeted him to his doom, only multiplying more and more everytime he “visited.” 

If he didn’t fucking hate this place so much it might actually be beautiful.

As he stuck to the shadows and moved closer and closer toward the terrace, he held his breath and tried to keep as far away from the flowers. That leaned and swayed towards guests like they where rays of sunshine they longed to touch. Their smell permeated the air and left you feeling intoxicated.  
He continued to blend in with the throng of guests, As ever vigilant and keeping to the shadows, that clung to him like a second skin. He expertly weaved through the them. Mindful not to draw anyone's eye's or let his mask slip. 

Not that he ever did, there was a reason that they called him the ghost after all. 

At least that was what his friends once called him, before all this mess. 

Before when he had some semblance of freedom and wasn’t someone's over glorified play thing. 

From his spot it didn’t take him long to spot the little humming bird. Fluttering from guest to guest as ever the perfect hostess.

He shouldn’t really call her that  
but knowing she hated it.  
Made it stick all the more. 

Seeing her reminded him of Jude and only stirred more feelings of guilt. Since they look the same down to the last hair. Everything that is but there mannerisms. 

In that regard they where as different as fire and ice. On one of his “visits” he couldn't help but speculate, that they where more similar then they’d like to think. A part of him started to believe that they both seemed to shape and mold their surroundings in different ways.  
Where Jude might root out the weeds and pests, by scorching and reshaping the ground. 

Taryn, from what he saw, would probably cover it all with thick layer of ice. letting the roots and weeds die deep down below, where nobody can see them and cover what remains with more and more snow until it’s unrecognizable. 

I have to hand it to her that is one thing she's good at. In the short time l've been here all l've seen her do is flutter about, covering cracks and patches in her pretty cage. 

It isn’t long before Locke appears at her side like an actor called to the stage, and they both retreated to admire a painting. 

For the umpteenth time he found himself in disbelief, that this. 

This man child, with a penchant for drama, was the one who held his life in his hands and played with it like it was some prop in his one man show. 

The anger at the thought. consumed him in a way that if he where to address him right now, would give him away and would only worsen his situation. So he hung back but kept his ears and eyes open.

“A wedding gift l presume.” he heard Locke ask with a smile, that on any other person might look kind.

“yes” she smiles demurely.  
“its exquisite” he admired.  
“Some might say it's somewhat macabre, for a wedding gift.” 

Clearly like all their conversations, this conversation was going to be dull as fuck... and of little use to his predicament. 

“You dislike that l displayed it?” Locke asked in a peculiar tone.

“No, of course not, your eye for art has always been infinitely better then mine." She said in a loving tone “...it's only, well like a fine wine or the best of books it really deserves it's own private place.” in the trash. “its always the private collection, the ones that are rarely shared with the public that are the most valuable.” 

“Touchè my blossom, l'm sure you'll make a fine collector.” He smiled through his drink 

“Although l must say, l wonder what awoke your new found love for art. Of all the art mediums l thought this was your least favorite. It wouldn’t have anything to do with our discussion last night?” he smiled

Her spin stiffened and for a second, she almost lost that annoying, sickeningly sweet smile, she always seem to have.... maybe not such a dull conversation after all but never the less still useless. 

“Yes, l suppose, you can take credit for that.” She replied with a sweetly cold smile “but l still stand by what I said.” 

Before either of them got the chance to elaborate. Ghost let his presence be known. At his sudden appearance the happy couple were startled. Taryn more so then Locke and it wasn’t long before, Locke excused himself and they both headed to the private study. 

When it came to these meetings it was hard to tell how much Taryn knew about her father and her husbands alliance. Which made him question if she was wishfully oblivious, like the gentry tended to be or just played dumb.

Whatever it was, she knew enough, he remember on more then one occasion she subtly stayed Lockes hand or redirected him, when he got to cruel. He didn’t really know or trust why, as far as he was concerned she was probably just like Locke. Who saw him as a mouse to play with. 

It wasn’t long he could dwell on it, before things got back to business as usual. In Locke’s office he passed on Madocs message and received his new mission and missive... 

That like his past two missions given by Locke. Where overcomplicated and unnecessarily risky for no other reason then to be complicated. He noticed the boy had a penchant for drama and would orchestrate cruel scenarios for him to carry out, in order to create dramatic moments with in the court. 

As an assassin he wasen't above murder, but he hated unnecessary cruelty and games. Which was why although Madoc kept him in worse conditions then a dog, he preferred his time under his rule then Lockes. As Locke continued talking he let his mind stray more and more and thinking about how it would feel to see his head cracked open like a walnut and the silence that would be followed after.

From an echo in the distance he heard Locke say with glee.

“Rather brilliant don't you think.” 

“Yes.” 

l'm not going to lie the sight of him dead would be brilliant.


	2. Because of course it had to be her

..................  
In the “visits” that followed things only seem to get worse.  
On Madoc’s side the missions he got sent to got deadlier and deadlier, and that was when he was lucky to receive them. At least on missions he could reset his injuries and find food. On Locke's side... he became more reckless and creative with his demands. Specially if it served to amuse him, at times he caught him looking at him like a well trained family dog.  
Unlike Madoc who was straight forward, Locke relished playing mind games with him and pushing him that extra step.  
Tonight was one of those nights where he tethered on pushing him that final step. In another one of his masquerades...that umm got a little out of hand. Locke paraded him in front of his friends and under the kings nose in a glamour. Showing off to all just how loyal and devoted his new “friend” was. At one point the intoxicated guests gathered ready to be entertained throwing orders and prompts. Some where simple, harmless and only made his skin crawl like a kiss or a boon to a dear friend, others not so much.  
The one that left him as he currently was blacked out on the soft grass of the maze with vines crawling around and in him...  
Leaned more toward the other.  
Through the fog and the pain of the vines, he felt a soft hand caress his hair, swiping some of the sweaty strands away from his face and mumble words, that he assumed were meant to comfort him.  
As his vision started to clear a little, Taryns face blurred in and out focus.  
“Is - is this hell? l’ve got to admit l thought the decor would be a little different and the company more agreeable.”  
Which only made her scowl more, as she delicately tried to remove the pieces of vine she could.  
“Your not dead dumb ass and neither am l, all though you almost were! What the HELL where you thinking pushing Locke like that.” Taryn scowled  
“Me- l’m sorry, is the nevermore clouding up your brain, so much your under the false illusions of who’s pulling who’s strings.” Anger crept up into his voice and fuelled him to sit up despite the pain.  
At the sudden move that brought them face to face and quite frankly a little to close for comfort. She takes a step back but not before icily replying “l might not know everything that's going on, but l know enough. To know that what you just did was stupid and reckless. That move served you no purpose but to give him another string to tug.”  
“Oh please don't pretend you see ANYTHING! when you've got your head so far up, buried in the sand, you can't even see your sink-” The sudden movement causes a jolting pain in his ribs and causes him to double over, wishing it would just kill him already.  
“Ghost look at me! it's not real, most of the vines have been pulled, the ones outside were the last ones. What your feeling is the after effects, okey.. it’s going to be fine, it has to be.” An edge of despair crept into her voice.  
“Hey look at me!” “PLEASE!” “Garret! Please just say something, anything!”  
hell no  
“No! if your trying to convince me NOT to die, your doing a shit job. Your just convincing me to go more into the light by being here."  
I feel her swat at my should at that and walk away, finally leaving me in peace.  
Finally!  
If she really wanted help me she knew how, l think by now my desire for a simple quick death was obvious to all. If she was capable of straying away from her three programmed emotions she'd do it, but clearly she wasen't. 

The maze is surprisingly peaceful and the murmur of voices seems far away and for a moment everything felt steady and calm, as time seem to pass by.  
He then felt his shirt being torn open, maybe chewed on by something? By who knows... probably something that caught the smell of his blood and got peckish.  
Followed by a tiny prick.  
As the fog cleared he saw it was Taryn again.  
Of course it had to be Taryn.  
Because why not?  
cleaning up his wounds and trying to sew them up.  
“Hold still”  
“l can do it myself.” He groaned  
“just stop moving"  
“l'm not moving.”  
“You are, just stop that.”  
“What breathing?” At that she gave me an exasperated look.  
“Do it... lightly...it's hard to get a neat stitch when you do that.” Her eyebrows crinkle up in tiny frown.  
“ Your doing it wrong. You do know your not crocheting right?”  
“Oh l'm sorry, l apologise that my sewing is not up to your standards. My step mother prepped me for all things a lady should know. Except how to sew ones guests back up, after ones husband visicrates them... Your lucky he listened and there was a healer on hand to deal with the majority of the damage.”  
“Yes lucky me... where is he by the way off torturing puppies.”  
“No, he's not like that.” At my sceptical look and current predicament she continues.  
“This was just... a one time thing. He's not... usually like this and you know it... yes he can be harsh at times and will test you but THIS, this is not him. It's the nevermore and the air of the party that got to him.”  
She said with a conviction that makes him feel like she was trying to convince herself as much as him.  
By the look of indecision, it was clear to see, she wasen't sure if she wanted to say what she said next. Which lead to an uncomfortable pause before she softly said.  
“You see people are.. like books, if you can read them you can predict where the story is going or change it... Its not that Locke hates you, you are a story to him and despite what you might think and what he does to you. You have to understand it does not come from a place of hate... rather more from the place of an author...trying to find what direction he wants a story to go in.” She tentatively finished.

“- That, is.. such bullshit.”  
“l knew you wouldn’t understand.. Your a fae you should understand... l just want you to know deep down, l know he will be sorry for what he did and does feel guilty t-”  
“l'm sorry l zoned out, the sensation of vines still crawling and moving under my skin distracted me from what you where saying. If l could say, but no please go on like humans do l would.”  
Having finished stitching, she cleans her hand giving up on convincing me and gives me food and water. She must have brought with her. Clearly she must have forgotten l can't eat or drink without his permission.  
“really.”  
“He said you could, go on drink" at that l scoff the jug and food down almost choking on it. To hungry to feel humiliated by what l've become.  
An animal happy for scraps.


End file.
